


Mirror People

by DadIWriteGayPorn



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Accidental Plot, Angst and Fluff and Smut, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Consensual Underage Sex, Dead Dove: Do Not Eat, Gay Sex, Hospitals, Inappropriate Erections, M/M, Major Character Injury, Ottery St. Catchpole, Plot Twists, Porn With Plot, Potions, Public Display of Affection, Public Hand Jobs, Public Masturbation, Public Nudity, Secret Relationship, Sexual Injury, St Mungo's Hospital, Stripping, Summer, The Burrow (Harry Potter), Twincest, Underage Kissing, Weasleycest, Weird Plot Shit, Wet Dream, life-threatening injury, mirror twins, village
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-07-27
Updated: 2019-09-19
Packaged: 2020-07-20 13:42:49
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Underage
Chapters: 2
Words: 10,191
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19993162
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DadIWriteGayPorn/pseuds/DadIWriteGayPorn
Summary: Fred and George Weasley are entering puberty. An embarrassing topic, for sure, but they're too curious to ignore it. Unable and unwilling to talk to anyone else, they head to their personal hideaway to talk things through with each other. And as it turns out, actions speak louder than words do. Perhaps a little too loudly?





	1. Branches/Bones

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've already got one Fred/George fic (technically 2-3, but for the sake of this, one). But I discovered something interesting and had to make this. This fic will have both plot and sex, I assure you ;-) hope you enjoy. Please leave me a comment with your thoughts on the fic
> 
> TW for the very end of this chapter. There is no abuse or non-con, but I don't want to say too much

George was having an unbelievably good dream. A kind he'd never had before. At least, not one he remembered having before. Blood pumped and sweat dripped, but he couldn't tell if it was his blood and sweat, or the other boy's. Perhaps both? And there was, indeed, another boy. He didn't look like anything or anyone in this dream state. There was no face to focus on, no real features to discern. The only constants were that he was clearly male, around George's own age of fourteen, and he was naked. 

The dream was pulling forth feelings he didn't realize he was capable of having. Barely lucid, George sought around for a word to describe the tightly roiling pressure in his gut and the lightness in his chest, the aching desire that was caused by what was happening in the dream. The word he was looking for was arousal, but before he found it his attention was pulled away as the naked nobody-boy began to touch him. Touch him in places no one had ever touched him before. Hands, more than the two the other boy should have, slid up and between George's thighs, squeezed his plump rear, pressed against his smooth chest and back. And it felt _good!_

George realized then that he too was naked. As soon as the realization hit him, all the hands moved to his crotch and butt. They gripped his member and stroked slowly. Fingers slipped between his butt cheeks, pulling them gently apart while tips teased at his hole. He sighed contentedly, letting them do whatever they wanted. It just felt _fantastic!_ George moaned out, beginning to thrust lightly into the grip around his-

"Oi, wake up!" 

Something grabbed and shook George's shoulder. His dream became erased and his eyes flashed open, only to close tight back a fraction of a second later to hide from a sharp ray of golden sunlight coming through the window to his left. 

"Mum says breakfast is ready," said the voice of George's twin brother Fred. And was he just groggy, or was there a strange tinge to Fred's voice? "She wants us to get dressed first. She's caught on to us staying in our pajamas all day to avoid going outside."

George felt a second shake at his shoulder and sat up slowly, eyes still closed. He shrugged off Fred's hand and hesitantly opened one eye. The brightness of the room barely let him open it, but he got a good look around nonetheless. 

Their room was a mess. They'd only just gotten home from Hogwarts for the summer two weeks earlier and hadn't exactly unpacked. Their two trunks sat open against the wall in front of the window, contents strewn everywhere. Too lazy to put away their things, Fred and George had simply dug through the trunks to find something whenever they needed. Old sweet wrappers and dirty clothes covered the floor, as well as the remains of more than a few Doctor Fillibuster's No-Heat Wet-Start Fireworks (their surplus from Hogwarts, which they had lit all at once a few days after arriving back home). 

George shifted his gaze to his brother, the only person who could safely wake him up without fear of a grumpy prank in retribution. Fred was already dressed in his casual muggle attire of blue jeans, a plain red t-shirt that clashed violently with his hair, and a pair of old white sneakers that were now covered in grime and dirt. George was still too tired to notice the odd, curious look his brother was giving him. 

"Morning to you t-t-t-too!" George yawned widely, daring to open his second brown eye as the first one grew accustomed to the brightness. He still had to squint but was no longer at the 'act like a vampire' stage of waking up.

"You get dressed," Fred instructed, turning to walk away from his and George's bed to the open door. "I'm heading down to make sure I get some sausage before Percy eats it all, again." 

George snorted. "Save some for me if you can. I'll be down in a bit." 

Fred closed the door behind him as he left. George took another moment to get used to the light, then stood and stretched, trying to remember the dream he had been having. The specifics were already slipping away, but he was able to recall the overall framework of it. Someone touching him, making him feel good. Was it another guy? Chill bumps rose on his arms at that thought, but he couldn't quite remember so he discarded the thought and moved on. He wasn't sure where the dream had come from, but then no one ever really has control over their dreams. He recalled where he'd felt some of the touches and glanced down. 

There was a tent in his pajama bottoms, and the tip of the tent was ever so slightly damp. George blushed, unsure of what to do. This had happened once or twice before in the past few months, maybe even a little more than that, but it hadn't been anything like this. Then he'd been wearing robes so it wasn't noticeable, and he had been able to ignore it and the erection had gone away quickly. But now it was demanding his attention! He hadn't felt like this before, either. Like his heart was trying to reach out through his chest, like he absolutely _had_ to touch himself down below. 

George cleared his throat, still blushing, and slipped a hand under his pajama bottoms to gently feel his penis. It was stiff, though not fully, and was still a little soft and bendy. He pushed the bottoms off to get a better look, unbuttoning his shirt as well when it got in the way; he had to strip anyway. Both items of clothing joined all the other dirty clothes on the floor.

He looked at himself with curious eyes. His penis, normally soft and fleshy and small, was now long and hard and big. The skin felt hot against his fingertips. Instinctively, George wrapped his hand solidly around the shaft and pulled down. He gasped loudly, legs shaking, as his foreskin rolled softly off his swollen and shiny purple head, bringing him an intense tickling pleasure. 

George stroked experimentally up and down twice more, and quickly had to sit back upon his and Fred's bed due to the pleasure. He could see and feel himself getting stiffer. His cock was beginning to stretch and ache, though it still felt good. 

Something else caught George's eye, something he hadn't noticed before because he never really examined himself down there. He was growing a few wisps of fiery orange hair just above the base of his shaft! They hadn't been there a few short weeks earlier. At least, he didn't think they had. He ran two fingers from his free hand over them. There were only a few, but now that he was actually looking they were very noticeable. They felt more coarse than the hair on his head, despite the fact that they were shorter. 

A deep, burning curiosity took hold of George's mind. Living in a houseful of boys and being somewhat popular at school meant he had no illusions about what was happening, but that didn't mean he knew what to do with this information, how to react, how to feel. He was fairly certain that he'd hit puberty, and he recognized the embarrassing nature of the subject. But he _had_ to know more! To exercise his curious mind, to find sympathy in another to help him come to terms. Only, there was no way he was going to talk to his parents about it. Far too embarrassing. Bill and Charlie had already left for their jobs, Percy was an uptight prat, and Ron was younger than George was. 

It wasn't like George needed to weigh his options on who to talk with, though. Fred, his twin brother, was the perfect, most obvious choice. The _only_ choice! They shared everything together, no matter how potentially embarrassing. They always had. Hell, they even shared a bed! They were effectively desensitized to anything odd relating to each other. 

And, of course, they were identical. Surely that meant Fred would understand exactly what George was going through. He may not have answers, but he would have a different perspective and a fountain of sympathy.

"George, dear, quit dallying and come down for breakfast!" His mother's voice hollered from downstairs, jerking George to reality. 

He shook his head, blushing, then hurriedly got dressed in his own Muggle Casuals. Though sometimes he and Feed purposefully dressed the same to confuse people, more often than not they liked being individually identifiable. So George threw on a pair of tan shorts and a spring green T-shirt (that somehow clashed with his hair every but as much as Fred's had done), adjusted himself so that hopefully his still pulsing (though deflating) erection wouldn't be noticed, then headed downstairs. 

\------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

George held in a burp as he set his fork on his empty plate and drained the last of his orange juice from his glass. He and Fred belched all the time during meals (mostly to annoy Percy), and for the most part, the family was used to it. But for now he wanted to stay off of his mother's nerves. 

"So. . ." George began as Ron rose from the table to grab the last slice of toast from a tray in the kitchen. Percy, his hair freshly combed and glasses polished, glanced briefly up from his copy of _the daily prophet_ to look at him with disinterest. Despite the fact that school was out and would remain so for another couple of months his Prefect badge was pinned proudly on the front of his robes. As if anyone new would see it. It wasn't as if they ever had visitors. 

"Yes, dear?" George's mother prompted. Ginny had her fork in her mouth but was looking away, clearly listening but trying to act like she wasn't. Mrs. Weasley smiled kindly. 

"Fred and I were thinking we would go down to the village after we helped clean up breakfast. That's okay, right?"

Fred shot him a curious look. They hadn't talked to each other about visiting their getaway in the village at all, but he kept quiet, as George knew he would. Fred would know that George had something to discuss with him. 

Mrs. Weasley frowned. "No, it's not. Your father had to go to work early today to finish his report on those biting doorknobs in Reading today, remember?" The twins' eyes shot quickly to the large, odd clock on the wall, where their father's hand was situated on "work" between "traveling" and "mortal peril."

"You and Fred are supposed to clean the Chicken coop since he's not here to do it," continued Mrs. Weasley. "After you finish that and have your lunch you two are free to go off and be boys together."

"Come on, mum!" Fred groaned indignantly. "We're not allowed to use magic outside school. It'll take us _ages!_ to clean in there. Can't you just pop in, say a quick _'Scourgify,'_ and let us be on our way?" 

Their mother's scowl returned, along with Ron. The youngest Weasley boy chewed slowly at his toast as he lowered himself back into his seat, muscles tense in case one of his brothers said the wrong thing and set Mrs. Weasley off. Percy flipped a page in his paper, apparently oblivious to all the others. 

"It builds character," their mother said. George heaved a heavy sigh and Fred rolled his eyes. Mrs. Weasley pretended she didn't notice. 

" **And,** " she intoned, "I haven't got any time. Ginny and I are leaving directly after breakfast to go over the hill to the Lovegoods. They've offered us some of their Dirigible Plums, and it will be good for Ginny to interact with another girl her age." 

"What in Merlin's name is a Dirigible Plum?" Ron set down a half-eaten slice of toast, looking perplexed. 

"It's a plum, Ron," George snorted, "just a Dirigible one. Honestly, who knows what it is. For all we know it's a plain old carrot."

Mrs. Weasley scowled, casting a narrow-eyed look of disapproval at George before turning to answer Ron. "You know, I'm not sure. Whatever it is, it seems edible and it would be rude not to accept." She said the last part in a stiff voice. The true meaning was clear. They were in no position to turn away free produce. George was inclined to agree, though his stomach still gave an uneasy lurch, as it normally did when he thought about his family's station. 

"What about Ron, then?" Fred asked, nodding his head at his younger brother. "It'd go a lot quicker with three people." 

"No, it wouldn't," Mrs. Weasley said, annoyance seeping into her voice. "There's not enough room for all three of you in the coop. Besides, Ron's going to be writing to Harry and Hermione and preparing Erol for the trip." 

George held back a groan of defeat. His eyes shot onto Fred's and a silent message passed between them. They would, for once, do as they were told. After that, they would make a beeline for their hideaway in the nearby village of Ottery St. Catchpole to discuss what had happened to George earlier that morning. 

\------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

"God, I wish Bill or Charlie was still here," George groaned as he and Fred swept up droppings and straw in the chicken coop. Fred nodded stiffly, trying not to breathe in the sweltering air. 

"Honestly, it would take all of two seconds to clean this with a wand. It's a shame Percy's not of age yet. He could have done this for us."

"You're joking? Percy is insufferable enough as is. You really want him to be able to apparate and lord his abilities over us? On top of that, you want to ask him for help? He'd get so puffed-up…." 

Fred rolled his eyes. "Probably not, but right now I'm willing to try anything."

At that moment they heard the front door of the Burrow open and close. A few moments later there was a sharp _crack!_ signaling their mother and Ginny's dissaparation. Fred immediately looked up at his twin. 

"So, what was that all about at breakfast, us going to the treehouse? You didn't bring it up at all last night." 

George blushed. He'd expected Fred to confront him before they arrived at their hideaway in the village, but he was too uncomfortable to explain it here. Not uncomfortable with Fred, by any means. He was more comfortable with his twin brother than anyone else on the planet, even Lee Jordan. But he was worried about Ron or Percy overhearing them. 

"I'll tell you when we get there," he said, hurriedly sweeping up the last of the chickens' mess. 

Fred grabbed his shoulder softly, eyebrows knitting together. "Hey, are you good, mate? Are we good?" 

"Yeah! Of course!" George replied in a voice that didn't sound truthful even though he _was_ telling the truth. "I'm good, honest. I just need to talk with you about something. Something, erm, that other people won't hear." 

Fred nodded, now looking away and blushing himself. George got a strange feeling that his brother already knew what this was about. 

\------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

The twins were covered with sweat by the end of their cleaning. It was a hot July day, after all. But with no appetite save for curiosity they skipped lunch and wasted no time in leaving for the village of Ottery St. Catchpole. It was a bit of a walk, but they were used to making the trek. They arrived at their destination before the hour was out. 

It was a decrepit, abandoned old house at the edge of town, with a For Sale sign perpetually in the front lawn (which was almost certainly still there due to the twins). They'd been in the house before, but there was nothing to see other than dust and spiders. The house wasn't what they were there for, in any case. 

Their hideaway was the treehouse in the back yard. The tree it was built into was old and sturdy. A large statuary willow that always reminded the twins of the Whomping Willow on the Hogwarts grounds. Only this one was larger, older, and didn't normally try to kill people. Its branches draped thick curtains of leaves that hid the inside of the treehouse from view at nearly every angle. 

The treehouse itself was simple. Just a boxy room up high in the tree branches about the size of a roomy broom closet. But the twins loved it! It was the perfect place to go when they needed to be away from people. It had clearly been constructed much later than the house whose grounds it was part of. The wood was still light and yellow, none of the boards sank an inch when stepped on, and it was relatively free of spiders and splinters.

Fred and George had found it by accident the summer before their first year at Hogwarts. They never came to the village in the winter, when the leaves had fallen, the ladder was frosted over, and the treehouse was visible, but they were down in it constantly throughout the summers when the branches and leaves from the Willow tree hid it almost completely. The twins had been in the backyard looking for a way inside the house itself when George had spotted it while taking a quick leak. They'd fallen in love instantly, and wanting to keep it all to themselves had convinced Bill to place a Muggle-Repelling charm on it before he moved out of The Burrow for his job. 

The twins hopped the old rickety fence encircling the yard with ease and made their way to the side of the trunk with the least branches, where short wooden boards were drilled up the side to form a ladder. They stepped over a fallen branch, ascending the ladder quickly, and took a moment to rest and cool off in the shade of the treehouse interior. 

Their silence and rest didn't last long. 

"So. . . You ready to tell me why we forfeited a perfectly good day of nothing at all to come here?" 

_Do I even still want to tell him?_ George wondered suddenly. He'd been eager to get it off his chest all day, but now that the time to divulge had finally come he found himself double-thinking things. _It's not the kind of thing brothers talk about. Boys, sure, but not brothers._ But his curiosity was killing him, and he had to tell _someone!_ And it wasn't as though he could put this in a letter to Lee Jordan or Oliver Wood. _I'm just gonna dive right in!_

"Right, so this morning, when you woke me up, I was having a dream. . . . An, erm, _naughty_ one."

"I know," Fred said simply and without judgment. 

"Y-you do?!" George nearly choked

Fred nodded. "Of course. You were moaning in your sleep, and in the summer you sleep on top of the covers, cuz you get hot. I could see your boner, mate." 

Despite the fact that George knew he should feel embarrassed, he felt relieved. Fred was speaking so openly, his voice so free of any judgment, that it felt relieving and vindicating to George. Fred didn't care, clearly, but also appeared to understand. 

"Well, I wanted to talk about it."

"About the dream?" Fred asked, eyes not leaving his twin's for a single second. As their eye contact persisted George felt a strange weightlessness in his chest, along with the sudden desire to touch his twin. _Anywhere, everywhere, I don't care..._

He blinked, breaking eye contact, and coughed. "Yeah. Er, well, no. Not exactly. Not about the dream itself, but everything that came with it." 

"Did you?" Fred grinned. "Come with it, that is." 

George shook his head. "I think I almost did. But you woke me up too soon."

Fred clicked his tongue. "Ahh, I'm sorry, Georgie. Next time I'll watch and let you finish first~"

George's face flushed, and he tried to stammer ahead, feeling flustered, "Th-thanks, but I'm s-still curious. . . Does this happen to you?" 

Fred shrugged. "It has once or twice. Only recently, though. I'm not sure if it's taken me all the way to... you know. I sleep through it."

More relief passed through George. _It's not just me!_ He'd known it wouldn't be, that Fred would be going through it all, too, but hearing him say it out loud eased his worries nonetheless. 

"Have you started growing hair down below, too?" Fred asked curiously. "Mine just started coming in."

George nodded. "Yeah! I only noticed this morning. Just a little bit, not much. Can. . . Can I see yours? To compare?" 

They both blushed deeply. George wasn't sure why he'd asked. It had just slipped out. His gut churned with fresh arousal, and Fred blinked, considering. 

"Err, yeah, sure. I don't see why not. We are twins, after all. But you've gotta show me, too. Okay?"

George nodded with numb eagerness, standing up with his back to the treehouse entrance. For some reason he could feel himself start to go stiff again. "Alright! Erm, so who goes first? Or should we-"

"Together?" Fred asked, standing as well and already reaching to his zipper. George nodded. 

"Together."

They both began to unbutton and unzip themselves at the same time, breathing intermittent shallow and deep nervous breaths. They kept their shoes on and dropped their pants around their ankles. The twins were wearing the same pair of slightly bulging underwear- plaid stripped boxer briefs. 

"I'm not sure. . . Is it a bad thing that we're both getting turned on by seeing each other naked?" George gestured unnecessarily to their slowly rising tents, a seed of anxiety beginning to grow in his mind. For now, it was overshadowed by other feelings of curiosity and arousal. For now. Fred shrugged. 

"It's happening to both of us. I think it's just hormones from puberty. We're not turned on because we're brothers I think, but because we're about to look at each other's privates. There's kind of a thrill to it. It'd happen with anyone. Does that make sense?"

George nodded, but at Fred's words he felt a fire ignite inside him, making him go stiffer. The wrongness of what they were doing became apparent, and it brought with it a fresh wave of horniness, if also fueling the sliver of anxiety. He actually _did_ find it hot that they were brothers about to get naked together! He kept that part to himself. 

"Well. . . Are you ready?" George asked, hoping his eagerness wasn't evident in his voice. Fred nodded, licking his lips. 

"Yeah, but we should take each other's underwear off." 

George blinked. The word "al-alright" escaped his lips before he could hold his urges in check. He blushed as his twin shuffled close to him. Fred grabbed his brother's wrists gently, pulling his hands to his hips. 

"Hey, it'll be fine. No one will see us. I promise."

"Unless the Muggle-Repelling charm wore off. After all, it is a couple years old, now," George chuckled sardonically, but he let Fred guide his hands anyway. Fred reached across and placed his hands on George's hips in turn. 

They spent a moment admiring each other, feeling hot and smooth, sweaty skin just above waistbands, eyeing the indented curves of hipbones, and mostly gazing breathlessly as their tents grew to full size, a good five inches. Perhaps even a bit larger, though only just. 

They both intended to move first, and ironically ended up sliding their fingers beneath each other's waistbands and pushing their underwear down at the same time. Fingertips slid against thighs. In the second before their cocks sprung free the bubble of tension inside George swelled to its maximum size, popped, and dissipated. Sweet relief filled his lungs, and he let out a quick chuckle as his and his brother's underpants were pushed down to just above their knees. 

Their teenage members touched the bare summer air inside the treehouse, heads directly across from each other. They were completely identical. They even had the same cute freckle just above the base of the shafts on the left side of their stomachs. George was too curious and turned on to notice that Fred's freckle was mirrored across from his, also on George's left. The only visual difference between their packages was that George's foreskin was already peeled back a bit and showed off more of his cockhead than his brother.

They were both fully, solidly hard. Pre had even begun to drip, though more for Fred. George noticed and something inside him gave a curious, aroused purr. He'd never seen precum before. George's eyes drifted to look at the few sprigs of red hair that were growing around his brother's cock. 

"Blimey, would you look at that?" Fred reached forward hesitantly with his right hand, pausing with his fingertips millimeters from George's shaft. When George made no move to stop him, he wrapped the hand softly around his twin's cock. A pleasureable shudder passed through George's body. Somehow, just simply being touched there by someone who wasn't him felt better than anything he'd ever experienced. _not just 'someone,' my brother._ He felt an urge to close his eyes and thrust slowly into Fred's hand. His eyelids fluttered, but he fought off the rest of the powerful desire. 

And as it turned out, he didn't need to succumb to the urge. Fred took another step forward (an impressive feat with jeans pushed down around his ankles) and started stroking George off slowly, eyes wide with wonder as he watched George's foreskin slide up and down his head, pushing more and more pre out of his slit. 

"Aahhh~ oh, M-Merlin, Fred!" George sagged forward and grabbed his brother's shoulders for support, eyes widening before squeezing tightly shut. 

"That feels good, doesn't it?" The question was posed as just that- a question. No sexual subtext or purring dominance, just curiosity. George nodded stiffly, teeth clenched firmly together. 

"You- you've gotta feel this, F-Fred. It's amazing! You... You're amazing!"

Fred suddenly straightened up, releasing his hold on his twin's penis. "Aha!" 

George blinked, confused and disappointed. "H-hey! Why'd you stop? That felt so good!" He looked up. Fred was standing straight, dick pointing right at his twin, arms crossed and a soft smirk lighting his face. 

"So you _are_ turned on by me!" He sounded more victorious than accusatory. 

"Wha- what are you on about? You're the one who said we weren't. This is just hormones, come on!"

"No... This is something else. You like me touching you."

Anger flared inside George. _Was this all a setup?! He just wanted to have something to lord over me?_ He grabbed for his shorts & underwear and straightened up, jerking the clothes back over himself. "Takes one to know one," he snarled, trying to hide his sheer embarrassment behind anger. His zipper flew back up and his button was quickly secured. George took a step back towards the treehouse entrance, beginning to turn away. 

"Wait!"

Fred's expression shifted to worry, and he crouched down while stumbling forward, one hand stretched out to his twin, the other trying to pull up his own clothes. He half succeeded in pulling up his pants, and they came to rest just beneath his junk. 

"You're right!" 

George paused right at the lip of the entrance and turned to look questioningly at Fred, both their faces flushed and pink. "I'm right?"

"That it, erm, it takes one to know one." Fred stepped forward, pulling his jeans the rest of the way up and fastening the button. "I. . . I like you, Georgie. Like, a lot. I always have. How can I not? We're closer to each other than to anyone else. But a few months ago my feelings changed. I wanted more from you. I wanted this, what we were just doing." His eyes were wide, trying to convey his emotions. 

But George was having trouble processing. "Wh-what? I don't understand. Earlier you said-"

"I was just trying to cover up my own feelings because I wasn't sure what your feelings were. We share things, yeah, but we always have. You showing me your cock didn't necessarily mean you were into me, just that you were curious and needed validation. So I dug and tried to find out your feelings for me by sating your curiosity, giving you that validation. When it became apparent that you liked me too, I got kinda cocky. I'm sorry, George."

George looked away, the seed of anxiety returning, this time developing much quicker than before. "Are. . . Are you saying that we like each other?" 

Fred nodded. "Unless I misread things, yeah, I am." 

"You didn't! Honestly, I didn't realize how I felt until you started touching me. The only problem is..."

"We're brother's," Fred finished, with a sigh. "I know. That could potentially complicate things." 

"Fuck, you think?!" George's heart started beating faster. "I- I can't be in love with my brother! People will hate me!" His breath started coming out in short, quick bursts. Fred reached a consoling hand towards his brother's shoulder, but George knocked it away. His eyes were wide and fearful. No, terrified. 

"It's. . . It's wrong, isn't it? Not just cuz we're related, but we're guys! Both of us! I can't… c-c-can't…" fearful tears appeared in the corners of his eyes. 

Fred opened his mouth for a second with a look of sympathy. Then his face set and hardened, and he shuffled purposefully closer, bridging what little gap remained between them. He looked George defiantly in the eye and grabbed his face, his touch gentle but firm. 

"Don't talk like that! There is nothing wrong with you, or us. _Especially_ not with being gay. It's a natural thing, idiots just get scared of it. But we can keep it a secret, ay? It'll be just for us. I… I love you, George." Fred's voice, which he'd been trying to keep strong, broke a little. 

George felt surprisingly calmed and reassured by his brother's words. The feel of his fingers against his face soothed his wired nerves. 

Until Fred leaned forward, pressing his lips against his brother's. George didn't even give himself time to feel the kiss. His anxiety spiked, and he stumbled backward away from his twin, not truly wanting him to stop, but simply afraid of what else this intimate contact would stir inside him.

Except there was nowhere behind him to step! He was already at the entrance of the treehouse, nearly 30 feet up in the willow tree. His foot met only air and George found himself caught off balance. Gravity took hold of him an did the rest. Before he tipped backwards George saw Fred lurch forward, reaching out to try and grab him, a look of horror on his face. 

"Shit!" Fred cried as his hand closed around air where George's arm had just been, a second too late. And then George was falling. 

His head swam with fear. He didn't even take in the fall itself. He tried to scream, might even have succeeded, but he couldn't hear anything. Blood was pounding in his ears. 

And then, after what felt like no time at all, he hit the ground. The impact knocked the wind so completely out of him that George felt as if his lungs were collapsing in on themselves. But that was small compared to the rest. Because something _pierced_ through him on impact, driving through his back and out his chest right where his heart should be. George felt the pressure of it, but not the pain that he knew should be there. He heard Fred let out a shriek of terror, a long wail that was full of emotion but stripped of humanity. His chest began to feel hot and wet. 

And then everything went black.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was soooo worried about how this would turn out, and how to tag it. In the end I decided to just dive in head first. please leave a comment and let me know what you think.
> 
> I now have a tumblr where I post updates and answer questions and post random fandom stuff: https://www.tumblr.com/blog/dad-i-write-gay-porn
> 
> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=qvTObrSF-QM
> 
> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=B9mbZvmnanE


	2. The Hollow

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  _Finally_ getting around to continuing this fic! Sorry (not sorry) about that cliffhanger. I like how this chapter turned out
> 
> I now have a tumblr where I post updates and answer questions and post random fandom stuff: https://www.tumblr.com/blog/dad-i-write-gay-porn

Percy set down his quill beside the parchment he had been scribbling on and checked his watch. It had been two and a half hours since Fred and George had gone out to clean the chicken coop- a generally half-hour job for them. But he hadn't heard them come back in for lunch yet. And Percy would have known if they had. His keen and easily tripped hearing aside, Fred and George seemed incapable of doing anything quietly. 

Percy glanced at he mostly completed potions essay- summer homework for Snape- debating himself internally. But the essay was dull and his curiosity (or, indeed, his desire for snitching) got the better of him. He scooted his chair back away from the desk and stretched before strolling lazily out of his room and downstairs. 

Percy walked through the empty kitchen and family room to the front door. He peered out at the sunlit lawns but still saw no sign of his pesky younger brothers. As he opened the door and stepped outside, Percy silently hoped they weren't doing anything untoward or inappropriate. 

It was a perfect day. The sun was shining strongly and even the birds seemed lazy as they drifted through the air rather than flying. Percy could hear the buzz of insects in the fields and hills surrounding the Burrow, but his focus was set on the closed chicken coop just ahead of him. 

"Fred, George?" He called out. There was no answer. He didn't see any sign of them, again, but had to go check nonetheless. He began to stride across dirt and dry grass towards the coop. 

He quickly began to rethink his assertion that it was a perfect day. Perfect to look at, maybe, but not perfect to be in. Sweat began to sting at his eyes before he was halfway to the structure, and the sun was so glaring against Percy's glasses that he had to squint to see anything. 

He passed the open family garage, which housed the Ford Anglia their father had been experimenting on. Everyone in the family except for Mrs. Weasley seemed to know that it could fly and turn invisible. If she did know, she kept it to herself. But true to their nature, Fred and George had discovered the Anglia's enhancements within the same week Mr. Weasley had installed them. Of course, not wanting to get caught, they'd done little more than hover off the ground a few feet. Percy had watched them from his bedroom window late the night they'd found out what the car could do.

When Percy arrived at the coop, it was as he had expected. Not a ginger hair in sight. A chip of worry started to form in the pit of Percy's stomach. He tried to swallow it down. This wasn't unlike Fred & George, after all. The coop looked clean, and George had brought up heading to the village earlier. Most likely to their not-so-secret hideout. They weren't the only ones who confided with Bill. 

No, there was nothing wrong. Nothing to complain about, anyway. They'd done their job and were out enjoying the summer. Whereas Percy had already had too much of it. He turned on heel and began to march back towards the house, wiping his brow with his sleeve as he went. There was work to be done. 

He almost didn't look at the family clock with its nine golden hands on his way through the family room to the staircase. He saw no reason to, and he was eager to finish his potions essay. And in truth, he only really cast a quick glance at it. But what he saw made his heart stop.

He had to do a double-take. For a second Percy wasn't sure what he was seeing. He'd never before seen any of the clock hands in this position, after all. 

He forgot how to breathe. He tried to gulp down air to make his head stop feeling light, but no matter how much he sucked down he couldn't make things stop spinning. 

_Mortal Peril._

Percy slapped himself in the face with a shaking hand, the way they did in the books and Muggle films he used to sneak out and see, trying to bring about stillness and clarity. He felt the force of it and faintly heard the clap of flesh against flesh but didn't feel the sting. He slapped himself again, harder. That seemed to work. His mind snapped onto one thing: getting to his brothers. 

Heart beating so hard it ached, Percy fled the house. They would surely be at their hideout, or at least on the way. Dead grass crunched beneath his feet as he sprinted to the garage, no longer feeling the effects of the summer heat. The main door was open, showing off the baby blue Ford Anglia inside. Percy wrenched the door open and dove inside, fumbling around for the keys. 

The car sputtered weakly; Mr. Weasley was still working out the kinks as far as reliability was concerned. When Percy heard the pitiful choke from the engine he cried aloud in impatience and fear. 

"Work, damn you, work! Please!" Tears appeared in his eyes. He turned the key again. 

The engine roared to life, but Percy had no reason to celebrate. He slammed the door closed and pushed the accelerator to the floor. Dirt went flying through the air as Percy tore out of the garage and across the lawn. He quickly shifted the gear into F and felt a lurch and split-second weightlessness as the old car's wheels lifted off the ground. 

The Anglia soared through the air, and Percy jerked the wheel to angle it towards the village of Ottery St. Catchpole. It barely made it over the property gate before continuing its ascent into the summer sky. Percy hastily jabbed his thumb into a button on the dashboard- the Invisibility Booster. The car gave a cranking sputter of protest but became obediently invisible nonetheless. 

The worst-case scenarios kept running through Percy's head. That George had been shot or stabbed by some Muggle, mauled by a wild animal, that he was dead. Percy's hands tightened on the steering wheel, knuckles turning white. He could not let that happen. He _would not_ let that happen! Not to his beloved little brother. They might not get along most of the time, but Percy still loved George with all of his heart.

_If only they'd listened to mum and come inside for lunch first. This, whatever it is, might have been avoided. Or I might have gotten to say goodbye. . . ._

Percy shook himself out of it quickly. Those thoughts would do no one any good. He had to try and remain as level-headed as his mother always was in a crisis. 

His mother! Mrs. Weasley had to know! As the flying Ford Anglia started to pass into the village, Percy quickly drove a hand into his pocket and grabbed his wand. He rolled down the window and pointed the wand outside, trying to focus. 

It was hard, but Percy had to try and pull up a happy memory. He concentrated on when he had gotten the Hogwarts letter containing his Prefect badge. He'd felt so prideful then! He had known he wanted to be a Prefect since Bill and Charlie had gotten their letters and badges. 

_Expecto Patronum!_

A faint spray of glowing white mist expelled from the tip of Percy's wand and vanished almost instantly. 

_Expecto Patronum!_ Percy cried again, focusing hard on the memory. This time a vague and undefined shape was cast from the wand, but it too was dispelled quickly. The memory wasn't strong enough. 

Percy sought around for a new memory. And maybe it was due to the nature of the current crisis, but the perfect memory drifted across his mind. He grabbed onto it eagerly. The day he'd left for his first year at Hogwarts. It felt like such a long time ago. Fred and George had still been kids. Heck, Percy had still been a kid then. Before he'd boarded the _Hogwarts Express_ the twins had given him something. A small box wrapped like when you would get jewelry for Christmas. Percy had suspected a prank, the two boys already unruly at that young age, but upon opening the box in his compartment he had found an actual gift: a mock Prefect's badge. It had simply been a drawing on a paper cutout with a safety pin running through it, but it had meant the world to Percy, and he still had it to this day. 

_Expecto Patronum!_

This time something lager, glowing, and solid-looking burst from the end of Percy's wand. He barely got a look at its avian shape before it disappeared, heading in the opposite direction towards the Lovegood's. Percy shoved his wand back inside his robes and began his decent over the outer neighborhood of the village. 

\------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

The ground rushed to greet Fred in his hurry to climb out of the tree- numb fingers and blurry eyes were not ideal climbing conditions. But he hardly noticed. He landed on his feet and stumbled forward. Already there was a dark red puddle spreading over the front of George's shirt. Fred collapsed onto his knees at his brother's side and shook him lightly. 

"G-George? George!? Please, w-wake up! Why won't you wake up?!" 

But nothing happened. His brother's eyes were closed and his form was unmoving. 

**"SOMEBODY HEEELLPPPP! HELP ME!"** Fred cried. He heard his voice echoing out but heard nothing in return besides the low rumbling of cars driving through the town outside the fence. It seemed that the Muggle-Repelling charm still worked after all. It was down to him. 

Fred's hands moved to his twin's chest, getting slick with his blood. His eyes moved from the formerly dry and dead but now wet and dripping tree branch protruding from the center of George's chest, and up to the boy's face, at those lips that Fred had just kissed. George looked pale already, and there was a small trail of blood trickling out of his mouth, showing a shocking contrast against his skin. It was darker and more jarring even than his hair. And yet he looked almost peaceful. 

He couldn't even tell if George was breathing. Fred tried sloppily to check his brother's pulse, first with his bloody fingers against George's neck, then pressing into his wrists. But he couldn't feel anything. Fred didn't know if that was because he was doing it wrong, or if the branch truly had pierced through his brother's heart, as it appeared to have done. 

"P-please, Georgie... Please don't leave me. D-don't die! I love you! I'm... I'm so sorry! It's my fault!" Fred collapsed down, burying his face in George's stomach, unsure of what more he could do. Neither he not George had brought their wands with them due to the laws regarding underage magic. And even if they had, Fred didn't know any healing spells. 

So occupied with the current crisis was he that Fred didn't notice the rumble of cars had grown in volume until it was at a near-deafening level. He looked up suddenly, eyes wide and red, as a shadow passed over he and his brother. 

Hope-filled Fred's heart as the baby blue Ford Anglia descended from the sky. It almost crashed into the large willow that George had fallen from but swerved at the last second and came to land right beside the two boys. 

Percy flung himself from the car, looking frantic and disheveled with his hair a wild mess and his eyes wide and manic. He took the sight in. George's once green shirt was now mostly red. His face was already paler than it had been mere moments before. 

"Move," he commanded, face setting as he strode quickly up to the two boys before crouching down. When Fred hesitated Percy shoved him out of the way. Fred stumbled back and watched as Percy lifted one of George's arms and pressed two fingers into his wrist. 

"I t-tried that," Fred sniffed, "I couldn't-" 

"He has a pulse!" Percy declared, dropping the wrist. "It's weak and it's slow, but it's there." 

Cold relief flowed into Fred's body, making him shake worse than before. He fell onto his knees and closed his eyes, a sob scraping out the back of his throat. 

"Get up!" Percy ordered. "We can't do that now. I need your help if we're going to save him. **Get up!** And snap out of it. Or else he's dead." 

Fred opened his eyes and nodded wearily, trying to take deep breaths to control his shakes and sobs. "Wh-what do we-?" 

"We need to get him into the back seat," Percy nodded at the idling Anglia. "But we have to leave the branch in. It's not like in those books Charlie and I used to read you, where you can just yank it out. We have to let the healers remove it, or he could bleed out. I know he already looks bad, but if we take it out it'll be worse." 

The trouble was, the section of branch that had pierced into George was connected to a much larger full fallen branch that was too unwieldy and cumbersome to fit inside the Anglia, even with its magical enhancements. So Percy, being as careful as he could, shifted George's body up and pulled out his wand. 

_"Difindo!"_

The branch severed cleanly just before it disappeared into George's back. 

"Help me with him!" 

Fred scrambled forward to help lift George up, Percy grasping under his arms and Fred below the knees. Together they hauled their brother into the back seat of the Anglia, Percy backing in with him. They rested George in the back seat and Percy got on the floor between the front and back seats. 

"Alright, Fred.... I'm going to need you to fly the car." 

Fred sputtered, shocked. "M-me?! But you're older! I don't know if-" 

Percy cut across him. "I need to stay back here and do what I can to help George. I have a wand and more experience than you do. You need to get us to the nearest hospital. If I know you, you already know how to fly this thing." 

Fred closed his mouth and nodded numbly. He was so full of adrenaline that while this would be his first true flight, he was certain he could do it. Maybe not well, but he could. He started to turn away, but paused. "Wait, the nearest hospital?" 

Percy nodded again. "St. Mungo's is too far away, and we can't apparate him. And this is too severe to take home to mum. Now, get up there and drive!" 

Fred yipped quietly and closed the back door, then ran to the still-open driver door and climbed inside. For a shakey few seconds all he could do was stare at the blood on his hands. Had George lost enough that he would need a donation? It seemed likely. Fred was more than willing to lend a vein. This was his fault, after all. He had to do anything he could to help his twin. Starting with flying George to the hospital. 

It was simple enough, really. Most driving skill comes from learning not to hit anything or anyone. But in the wide-open sky in a small Muggle town, there was no issue. Fred knew the basics, and that was enough. He jammed on the invisibility booster, slid the gearshift into Fly, and pressed on the gas. They shot up into the air, Percy already waving his wand over George and muttering under his breath. George caught a glimpse in the mirror and could have swims he saw the blood soaking George's shirt moving _backwards!_

_"Brackium Emendo,"_ Percy murmured, passing his wand over George's ribs. _"Episkey...."_

But he had to focus. The nearest hospital was one town over. An hour's drive when taking the winding country road and obeying the speed limit. With a straight shot at maximum speed they would make it in barely twenty. So Fred put the pedal to the metal and turned the wheel to angle them towards salvation. 

\------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

The room was so dark that at first George didn't realize he'd opened his eyes. Every atom in his body was throbbing with a strong ache, like he was made up of bruises alone. 

The room slowly came into focus. A dull beep of machinery to either side along with some dimly glowing red and green buttons. The room was small, square, and entirely white, though everything looked grey due to the lights being off and the blinds pulled tightly closed.

The room was also filled with people. Maybe six? Perhaps more? George tried to count but just getting past three made his head pound. They were all sitting in chairs set around the room, and they all had fiery red hair. He could make out the faces of his mother and father, Percy, Ginny, Ron, and Fred. All had their eyes closed but the last. 

"Whaaa?" George groaned hoarsely, his mind sluggish, throat dry, and muscles somewhat unresponsive. Fred's eyes jerked onto his. They looked fearful and wide, but with a glimmer of hope. George noticed his twin's features looked sunken and waxy. 

Fred bolted up as he realized his brother was awake. He hurried over and instantly grabbed one of George's hands, though George was still too out of it to know which hand. 

"Oh thank god! You- you're awake!" Fred sounded breathless and on the edge of tears. He squeezed George's hand, but George barely felt it. 

"What... Where a-am I?" It was a struggle to get just those few words out, and they came out heavily slurred. Fred seemed to understand though. 

"Hospital," he said. "You... You remember what happened, don't you?" 

George wanted to shake his head but found that his muscles were so locked up that he couldn't. He opened his mouth to try and tell his brother this when suddenly it all came back to him. The treehouse, his and Fred's secret touchings, the kiss, and him falling. He remembered feeling like something had stabbed him in the back and through his chest right before passing out. 

As if on cue George felt a searing pain in his chest a pain that started on the surface and continued deep down inside, all the way down to his back. He couldn't breathe. George jerked his hand hard out of Fred's and tried to scream, but all that came out was a thick groan of pain. 

Then, as suddenly as the agony had appeared, it faded away. It didn't disappear completely, but it no longer felt like a hot poker spearing through him. 

"I'm so sorry," Fred began. "it's my fault! It's all my-" he faltered as a sudden scrape of chairs cut through the room. The other Weasleys had awoken. 

"He's awake!" 

"Oh, thank Merlin!" 

"My baby boy! We're here! You're going to be all right."

Seven more faces joined Fred's crowding around George's bedside. His entire family was here, even Bill and Charlie. They all looked grim and tearful, but they tried to put on smiles for George. 

"I'll... I'll go get a doctor!" Percy sounded much more timid than his usual pompous self. He dashed away, looking a little red in the face. 

George looked away from Fred, mixed feelings bubbling up inside that made it too painful to see him. He looked at Bill, the one who had helped make their treehouse a secret. 

"Am... Am I at St. Mungo's?" 

Bill shook his head. "No, that's hours away in London. Fred and Percy, erm," he shot a quick look at his mother and father, " _drove_ you to the nearest hospital."

"I came here straight away with Ginerva after I got Percy's Patronus," Mrs. Weasley said, reaching down to squeeze George's foot. He couldn't feel it. "Gave the Lovegoods quite a fright, though not nearly as much as us. But you were already in surgery when we got here."

Ginny nodded, looking unsure of how to react. "You were in there for _hours!_ "

"I'm afraid there isn't a lot the Muggle doctors can do for you," Mr. Weasley began, looking concernedly up over his spectacles. "But as soon as I heard why had happened I reached out to St. Mungo's. While you were still too injured to be relocated, they sent some healers here to help the doctors."

"And confund them!" Charlie snorted. "Personally, I don't think it's a good idea to go around confunding and obliviating doctors." 

"They saved your brother," Molly cut in diplomatically. "And in any case, their timing was perfect. The doctor we were assigned to was starting to talk about how we didn't seem to exist. Something about no 'tax record or proof of residency?'"

"In any case," Arthur interjected, "you are well on the road to recovery, though by no means are you healed yet." 

At that moment Percy walked back in, accompanied by someone who could only be George's Muggle doctor, a thin black man with a kindly smile that seemed out of place in this setting. He flipped the lights on without warning and George found himself blinded by the sudden fluorescence. 

"The Healers are still letting him take charge, as he did the surgery," Mr. Weasley explained in an undertone to the scrunch-eyed George as the man approached. 

"It's nice to see you finally awake," the man said as he set a clipboard down on the side of George's bed, then pushed Fred aside to fiddle with some of the instrumentation George was plugged into. He had a rather posh, cheery accent.

"How long was I-?"

"Two days and some change. Oh, I'm Doctor Murphy, by the way." His hand twitched like he had been about to extend it for a shake, then thought better of it. 

"All I have for you is good news. Blood pressure is normal, heart rate is as good as can be expected given the circumstances, the fractures in your ribs have healed nicely, and we've managed to eliminate all internal bleeding! We need to check up on your spine, it got grazed pretty badly when the branch pierced through you. But we want to wait for you to heal more before we go messing around with that. But hearing you talk is a good sign. Now, on a scale of one to ten, how would you rate your pain?"

George slowly opened his eyes just a little bit, getting used to the light flooding the room. It made his head pound, but it was bearable. 

"It... It keeps changing," he said, speech still slurred. "Everything aches. S-sometimes it's manageable... Sometimes it's Mexico." He winced as the wrong word came out. "It's. . . Bandana! Fuck!" 

Mrs. Weasley drew a sharp breath but the doctor waved a calming hand. "He has minor aphasia. It's perfectly normal for someone in his circumstance. He knows what he means to say, but there's so much going on in his body right now that the signals get confused in their way from his brain to his mouth." 

George looked away ashamedly and ended up seeing himself for the first time. He was wearing nothing but a baby blue and white hospital gown. His arms were bare, so he could see the various tubes and needles disappearing inside his veins. His left pointer finger had an odd bulky bit of plastic clipped onto it that had a cord connecting it to his heart monitor. And he could see his chest through the top of the gown. There was a large, white, gauzy bandage placed right in the center of his chest, where his heart should be, where the branch had poked through him. 

"Why... Why am I not.... Dead?" George struggled to speak the correct words this time. "It... Branch... Through my heart?" 

The doctor nodded slowly, the kindly smile melting away. "Yes. Yes, you're right. Under normal circumstances, you would have been beyond saving. Once the heart is compromised there isn't really anything we can do. But things with you weren't normal. You're a special and extremely rare circumstance." 

The doctor picked up his clipboard and flipped to a middle page. "This is an X-Ray of your brother, Fred, that we took after giving you surgery." he held the clipboard out to show George a printed out picture of an X-Ray. It looked perfectly normal, but then George was no expert by any means. 

"And this is an X-Ray we took of you, also post-surgery." he flipped to a different page and showed George his own X-Ray. At first he didn't see anything out of the ordinary. But his eyes began to narrow as the realization dawned on him. 

"They're.... Different. Swapped?"

"Yes indeed!" The doctor nodded and withdrew his clipboard. 

"But we're identical?"

The doctor shook his head. "No. No, you're much rarer than that. You and your brother are mirror twins." 

_"Blimey!"_ Ron breathed. 

George frowned, not understanding. The doctor continued. "You and Fred look identical on the outside, but on the inside you're switched, mirrored. Your organs are on the opposite side as his. Normally this wouldn't matter. You've got two lungs, two kidneys... The orientation would have been imperceptible. But, for example, on a normal person the liver sits on the right side of the stomach. Yours is on the left. And while the heart does sit in the center of the chest, it isn't dead-center. Yours was shifted just ever so slightly. And this saved your life. It wasn't punctured at all. Had it been in the same position as your twin, you would have perished." 

_So there's even more wrong with me than I thought...._

"George, dear," his mother started tentatively. "What... What exactly happened?" 

"I told you already!" Fred fired up, "He-!" 

"We want to hear it from George, son," Arthur cut through calmly. All eyes, even Doctor Murphy's, turned back on George. 

George half considered telling the truth. It was Fred's fault he'd fallen, after all. Had Fred not teased and kissed him then George wouldn't have ended up here. His anger cut through the (hopefully) drugs slurring his speech and softening his mind, and he opened his mouth to spill the beans. He thought about how Fred had used his confusion and arousal to get himself off, an how he'd clearly just manipulated George into thinking he'd fallen for his twin. At least, that was how George saw it now. 

But as George prepared to tell his family what had happened, he shot a quick glance at Fred and faltered. There was no hint of worry on Fred's face at what his twin would say, only shame-filled eyes. He was ashamed at what he'd done. His sunken features spoke to how much he'd been agonizing over it. George closed his mouth slowly and cleared his throat. 

_If I tell on Fred I'll also be telling on myself.... And he didn't mean to do it. That doesn't make it okay, but he's sorry. I know he's sorry. I can feel it. I can't tell them that he turned me on, that we played around.... That I wanted to go further._

George licked his lips and swallowed down his anger. "I just got distracted... Wasn't p-paying attention. Lost my quack.... Lost my _balance,_ and f-fell." 

"If it wasn't for your brothers' quick thinking," doctor Murphy nodded at Fred and Percy, "you wouldn't have made it to the hospital in time. . . I've never seen such a perfect cut like that, either. On the branch that got you, with limited time and no saw... You'll have to tell me how you managed that sometime." 

Percy went stiff, remembering the spell he'd used to sever the branch. 

"Ahem," Arthur began, keen on changing the subject, "when can we begin that transfer? You remember the one I mean?" 

Doctor Murphy nodded. "Ah, quite right. To the specialty clinic that deals in... What was it again?" 

"Surprising survivals?" Molly supplied. That seemed to be enough for the doctor. 

"He'll be transferable soon. Within a day or two. For now, he needs to sleep. Resting is the best thing his body can do. Which reminds me!" He slipped a hand into his lab coat pocket, "I have something for you that those specialists your father called in gave me." He pulled out a clear IV bag. "They said it was a potion for dreamless sleep," doctor Murphy chuckled and began to hook up the IV. "They're pretty funny for specialists." 

The potion IV worked extremely quickly. The liquid had barely passed through the tubing and into George's veins before his eyelids began to weigh down. He started to fade away, the bright room getting darker and darker, the 9 faces looking down at him becoming blurred and abstract. 

"It's okay," Fred's voice floated strangely through George's mind before he fell asleep. "You'll be okay now. When you wake up you'll be at St. Mungo's."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I now have a tumblr where I post updates and answer questions and post random fandom stuff: https://www.tumblr.com/blog/dad-i-write-gay-porn
> 
> https://youtu.be/CjMU60FZETY


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